“No, no, no, no, NO!” Ryland threw himself down at her side. “That was supposed to be me, not you,” he sobbed, pulling her close to him. “You can’t die, you can’t. I can’t lose you too.”
Fayre placed a hand on his cheek and turned his wet face toward her, kissing him weakly on the lips. Ryland grabbed her hand, his whole body shaking with sorrow.
“I love you,” she whispered quietly into his ear. The next moment her eyes dulled, and her body went limp.
“NO! FAYRE!” He shook her hard, willing her eyes to open, to twinkle at him, willing her to come back to him. “Fayre, come back, please, please come back, Fayre,” he mumbled over and over, anguish tearing at his soul. He sobbed so hard his whole body shook uncontrollably. “Please,” he uttered one last time, but her limp body didn’t move. Setting her down gently, Ryland stood up shakily, shock overtaking him.
He looked slowly at Caspian, who had taken a few steps back from Fayre. His eyes were wide, and his face was wet. He covered his gaping mouth with his hands, and his expression contained horror at what he had done.
“No,” Caspian muttered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He removed his hands from his mouth and spread them out in front of him, shaking as he stared at them. “What have I done?”
Slowly, Ryland came to his senses, and a hot, all-consuming anger filled him. He curled his hands into fists, staring at the despicable man in front of him. His whole being thirsted for revenge on this evil man who had taken Fayre away forever. He took a step forward over Fayre’s body, and Caspian, his eyes wide with fear as he realized Ryland’s anger was directed at him, stepped back.
“You! You did this,” Ryland accused, pointing a finger at Caspian. He took another step forward, and Caspian took another step back. Ryland’s body shook with the fury of emotions rushing through him, the power of his hate threatening to tear him apart. “You killed her!” he roared. A complete and utter loathing filled his mind. He was going to kill Caspian now or die trying. He leapt onto the startled prince, and the two fell to the ground, Ryland’s hands outstretched with every intention of strangling the life out of the murderer, his sword forgotten at his side.
Before he could accomplish his goal, an overwhelming pain filled him. He screamed in shock and agony, his quest for vengeance temporarily forgotten. Dimly, he heard Caspian cry out with him. Their screams intertwined, seeming to fill the world around Ryland, sucking away anything else. For a brilliant, shattering moment, he experienced a disconnection from his body as if his mind refused to accept the full force of the pain.
Everything went black.
Devin growled and shook off the remaining magic from his hands. The frost faded away, and his vision slowly turned to normal. The dark wizard slumped against the wall for a moment, holding his head as he slowly returned to his human form.
The spell had gone perfectly. He had set Caspian in his sights and directed all his spite toward the boy, as the instructions said. The black and blue bolt of magic had traveled quickly, and Devin had been absolutely sure he had succeeded.
Then, to his surprise and complete bafflement, his stupid cousin, Ryland, jumped in the way. Devin could tell by the way they both screamed, writhed about, and then passed out, that he had managed to hit them both. He could only hope the magic was still strong enough to eventually kill the prince. As for Ryland, well, Devin had been hoping to keep him alive for a little longer, but he was going to have to get rid of him eventually anyway. Devin guessed it would be sooner rather than later.
The grass around Caspian and Ryland had turned a curious shade of dark black, and Devin saw that the grass wasn’t dead; it was simply a different color than it used to be. The men themselves were coated in a fine, black dust. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed that the body of that stupid girl Ryland had been in love with was untouched by the spell. Devin had been so grateful when the prince had finished her off. It had been a waste of time and resources to continue paying her personal servant to poison the girl.
Leaning slightly out of the window, Devin watched with dismay as the men who fought with Ryland scattered, confused at the loss of their leader. The peasants of the kingdom also began to disperse, many running out of the ruined gates, but a larger number turned on the confused soldiers, attacking them. Growling with frustration, Devin prepared himself to go down and deal with them himself but stopped when he spotted a group of unusual people. He could tell, even from far away, that a few of them possessed magic.
Fury raged through Devin. “How did that boy find wizards?”
Others followed behind the wizards, and Devin recognized the dirty and torn uniforms of the previous royal soldiers, those who were still loyal to the ex-prince. The soldiers began rounding up Ryland’s men as one of the wizards ran toward Caspian and dragged him away from Ryland, leaving a trail of black dust in his wake.
Devin took a step back, considering his options. He knew when he was beaten. After a spell like that, he didn’t have the energy to fight off the remaining forces and a group of wizards. Since Ryland would probably soon be dead, he couldn’t use him to win the people over either. Devin had no choice but to retreat before they caught him.
But it wasn’t over yet. He’d quickly regain his strength and attack while they were still weak.
Glancing once more out the window at Ryland, Devin smirked at his prone form. “You were a fool for trusting me, and I am glad to be finally rid of you.” Devin spun around and opened a secret tunnel, running from the castle despite his exhaustion. He would teleport away as soon as the magic in the castle allowed him to.
Bitterness and determination filled him. Next time, there won’t be anyone left to oppose me.
Chapter Twenty-two
Caspian heard a high-pitched ringing in his head that seemed to drive itself into his skull like a nail. He shifted his head back and forth, trying to shake off the pain-inducing sound, but it stayed with him, making him feel faint. He strained to open his eyes, and the ringing faded slightly. Finally, he thrust his eyes open and flinched at the bright light that made his stomach rise into his throat, but at least the ringing was gone. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold in the bile that was creeping up his throat.
“Caspian?” he heard a voice ask him. “Are you awake?”
Caspian shook his head back and forth, trying to clear it and focus on the blob above him. Instantly, his vision sharpened, and he saw Charwin leaning over him, a concerned look on his face. Caspian felt his lips split wide into a grin, his right cheek stretching strangely, a constant reminder of the scar placed there by Ryland.
“Charwin!” Caspian lifted his body upward but winced and nearly fainted when his head spun and his vision darkened. Sinking back into the bed, which he now realized he was on, he took a deep breath and continued, “I am so glad you’re alive.” Suddenly, it hit him that his whole body was shaking slightly. He told himself to relax, and the quivers slowed, then stopped.
Charwin smiled sadly. “I saw what happened to Reen. We haven’t buried him yet. I thought you would like to say goodbye.”
A stab of pain shot through Caspian’s heart, and he nodded, at a loss for words. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “How long have I been out, and . . .” He blinked. “What happened?”
Charwin held out his hands, and the prince took them, accepting Charwin’s help as he hauled himself upward. As he did so, Caspian saw a bit of black on his arm when his sleeve inched upward. When he was more or less in a seated position, Caspian let go of Charwin and slid his sleeve all the way up, inspecting his arm. There, on his forearm, was a strand of black skin. Touching it lightly, Caspian could tell nothing at all was wrong with the skin except for its abnormal color.
Caspian looked at Charwin and raised his eyebrow, confused. The wizard nodded back at him and put a hand to his chin, apparently gathering his thoughts. While he did so, Caspian took the opportunity to settle himself into a more suitable position.
Charwin waited until Caspian
was seated comfortably before beginning, “It’s only been a couple of hours, I don’t know what happened to you, and I don’t know where those marks came from.” The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “You have one running through your hair as well.”
Caspian brought a hand to his sandy blond hair and raked his fingers through it but felt nothing different. Suddenly self-conscious, he fingered the scar on his face for a moment before forcing his hands to rest in his lap. How much more would Devin and Ryland end up disfiguring him before this ordeal was over? Feeling very uncomfortable with the subject, Caspian prompted Charwin, “All right. Go on.”
Charwin dropped into a chair next to Caspian’s bed. “I managed to meet up with the rest of your forces inside the castle, and we headed to the courtyard, which is where I figured you would be. When I got there, you and Ryland were both unconscious and covered with this weird dust.” Charwin reached into his cloak and pulled out a bottle full of what looked like black sand. Caspian leaned forward to examine it, and Charwin handed him the bottle. After a moment of inspection, Caspian could feel cold tendrils reaching up the arm that held the vial, evil practically seeping into his skin. He instantly felt faint, and he almost threw up and passed out at the same time. Quickly, the prince gave the bottle back to the wizard.
Charwin looked at the vial, then back up at Caspian. “I’m afraid you’ve had a terrible dark spell put upon you. It was probably cast by the dark wizard and is most likely the cause of the unnatural coloring. I’m not sure what effects it will have on you, or on Ryland.”
Caspian blinked, and he rubbed his arms, trying to fight the sudden chills that came over him. “You have Ryland?”
Charwin nodded. “Yes, my lord. We captured him, still unconscious, once we moved you into the castle where you could rest. He woke up immediately after we put him in the cell, and he looks . . . much worse than you do.”
Caspian glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Charwin started, his hands fidgeting. “He—he has the marks as well, except everywhere. His skin where it remains white is the palest I have ever seen on a person, and his eyes . . . well, he . . .” Charwin shook his head. “He looks like a walking corpse, sire. I suspect he will soon be dead.”
Caspian rubbed his arms again, feeling guilt spread all over him like a wildfire. The wizard Devin would not have tried to kill Ryland, so if Ryland hadn’t jumped on him when he had, he would have been fine. And the only reason Ryland jumped on him—Caspian cut himself off. He wasn’t going to let himself think about what had dldkdkdkddkdkdkhappened. It would destroy him if he dwelled on it. But he had to know one thing.
“The maiden who was near us, has she been buried yet?” Caspian asked quietly, staring down at the blankets.
Charwin shook his head, confused.
The prince lifted his gaze slightly to meet Charwin’s and nodded. “I want her to receive the best burial possible and to be laid in the royal graveyard. It’s only fair,” he murmured the last part to himself, but Charwin must have heard it.
“Sire?” Charwin asked, but Caspian shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened, not yet.
After a moment of silence, the wizard cleared his throat. “Your Highness, we have managed to quell the fighting, and all the enemy guards are in prison. A few of the commoners have stayed behind, either injured or asking for help in some manner. We have saved the latter for your consideration.”
Caspian blinked, shocked. He didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Then we did it? Algar is free? I am king?” he asked, not daring to hope.
Charwin grinned and nodded. “You won’t technically be king until your coronation, at least if that is how you do things here. But yes, the kingdom is yours.”
“Yes!” Caspian pumped a fist in the air. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and looked at Charwin, ignoring the residual weakness that begged him for additional slumber. “Then there is much to do, right?”
“Yes. The gates have been utterly destroyed, and I suggest you do something about the tunnels. The people need organizing, and some desperately need aid after everything Devin took from them. Food, mostly. There are a great number of slaves working in various mines around the kingdom who need to be freed and compensated. And then there are your other political duties that I currently know nothing about, including appointing new council members and lords, because most of them are dead or dying, and . . .” Charwin paused. “Milord,” he said, catching Caspian’s attention from where he was trying to stand up.
“What?” Caspian asked, his excitement dampened by the expression on Charwin’s face. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good if Charwin looked so anxious.
“I suggest you deal with Ryland as soon as possible. Not only is he close to death, but he is dangerous to have around.”
Caspian felt the strength drain out of his invigorated body, and he sank onto the bed again. “You mean I should kill him.” He wiped his brow and swallowed.
“It would look better to the people if you took some kind of legal action toward him instead of letting him die of whatever ailment it is that pains you two. That does not necessarily mean you need to execute him, though I would suggest it.”
Caspian’s head jerked up. If he and Ryland had the same affliction, would that mean Caspian would die early as well?
Reading his look, Charwin shook his head. “We don’t know if your symptoms will worsen, but it seems like whatever it was, Ryland took the brunt of it.”
Caspian nodded slowly. Ryland. The poor man. After everything that was done to him . . . After everything Caspian alone had done to him . . .
“I will be here if you need help making this decision, Caspian.”
“You’re really staying?” Caspian turned his head toward Charwin, who sat down on the bed beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded and gave Caspian a comforting smile.
Smiling absentmindedly back, he considered the problem at hand, an idea forming in his head. Nodding sharply to himself, he made up his mind. He knew what he was going to do, and nothing anyone could say to him would deter him from it.
“Summon Ryland to the main hall. I will deliver his sentence there.”
Ryland looked up when the door to his cell creaked opened, and he stared with vacant eyes as a man grabbed his arm and led him through the castle corridors. Ryland could feel he was dying, though from what he wasn’t sure. He only knew two things: his body was a nearly lifeless shell, and Devin had abandoned him. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
The guard led him into the great hall, which looked a bit worse for wear, with unnatural darkness gathering in corners, candle sconces broken, and a few random holes in the walls. Ryland couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t remember what had happened before he woke up in the cell, at least not in detail, but he knew it was something he didn’t want to think about, so he let it rest. It wouldn’t matter when he was dead anyway.
A few people entered the room, one looking around in shock and dismay, then whispering to the older man next to him. As the young man turned to face the room, Ryland realized with a shock that he recognized the man, and a name resounded with the scarred face. Caspian. The prince turned in Ryland’s direction, his face paling noticeably, except for the scar, which remained its abnormal and ugly dark color.
Ryland sneered at the man as the memories came rushing back. His whole body trembled, and he felt the disease sink its claws in deeper, but he didn’t care. He remembered what happened, he remembered seeing Fayre’s blood staining the ground, he remembered calling her name, and he remembered the man who killed her.
Stepping forward, he tried to lunge at the prince but was stopped by the chains binding his hands and feet, which were connected to a length of chains held by the guard who had led him to the room. Ryland doubted he would have been able to get very far anyway without collapsing, but he was pleased when Caspian took a step back, his eyes wide with fear.
Charwin gra
bbed Caspian’s elbow and steadied him, whispering encouraging words until Ryland and his guard reached the throne. Sitting on his throne, Caspian examined Ryland carefully. His armor had been removed, and his sheath hung empty by his side. Black stains covered his clothing, and there was a noticeably large black streak crossing his face from his right temple to the left side of his chin. He was hunched over and breathing hard as he stared up at Caspian with eyes that shone like black coals.
Caspian swallowed hard, perturbed by the awful state of the man in front of him. Ryland had always been so healthy, and now he had been reduced to this. Caspian swept a self-conscious hand through his hair and tried not to think about how he might end eventually up like that too.
Charwin cleared his throat, bringing Caspian back to the task at hand. Caspian glanced at the wizard and gave him a wan smile before taking a deep breath.
“Ryland Lyke, head of the Lyke household, you are hereby charged with treason against your king and country,” Caspian declared. “The sentence for such a crime is death.”
Ryland glared at the man as though not caring what happened to him. “This is all your fault,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I understand that much of this is my fault,” Caspian conceded. “After everything you did, I hated you, and I was so consumed with a want for vengeance that I did a terrible thing. An innocent woman died because of my anger. And for that, I am so sorry. I will carry the guilt of Fayre’s death with me until the day I die.” He whispered the last part, and his eyes filled with tears.
Caspian looked away for a moment, blinking hard before turning back to Ryland, his eyes now dry. “I hereby sentence you to banishment from the kingdom of Algar, effective immediately. If you are ever found in my kingdom again, you will be executed.”
“Sire,” Charwin started, taking a step forward, but Caspian held up his hand. “A mercy for a mercy,” Caspian murmured to him and looked down at his lap.
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